


Show me what you've got

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azazel (Supernatural)'s Special Children, Bobby knows tho, Brief Wincest, Broken Bones, Fluff and Angst, Gordon Walker Being an Asshole, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Possibly more if wanted, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Gordon Walker gets his hands on Sam, determined to show the world what the boy can do. Dean gets a phone call from the deranged Hunter, photos of his abused baby brother, and gets mad





	1. Sammy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this does include some themes of Wincest, but it can be avoided if you don't like that kind of thing. If you want a second chapter, please let me know :)

Sam rose his head, regretting it considerably when his stomach threatened to upturn. His eyes adjusted to the low light, working out that he was in some sort of farm building. Going to move his arms, he heard the rattle of chains, looking over his shoulder to examine them. His wrists were bound behind him, tied tightly with rope and then handcuffed, double protections that he doubted a novice would do. His arms were then tied to the chair, a steel framed chair that would be difficult to break out of.

His legs were similar, apart from they were bound apart, not together. A bar prevented him from closing his legs, kept his ankles apart, but restrained them. They were then bound to the legs of the chair. Whoever had done this knew exactly what they were doing, had planned it brilliantly. It should worry Sam, but he had grown up with being in these situations. Instead of panicking, he thought about what he knew.

Dean and him were in a bar. Dean was refusing to broach the obvious issue between them, that one of the “special children” had been killed. Sam had worked out that someone was hunting them down, hunting him down, because he almost got shot. Dean had found him, and they had gone to a bar. Then, as Sam had gone to walk out to the Impala, something had hit him in the neck. A dart, he remembered, and he had tried to fight whoever had come at him.

‘Morning, Sam.’ He looked up, recognising the voice. Gordon Walker looked like he always did, insane. Sam remembered Ellen’s warning about him, watched the Hunter stalk across the room, a smug smile on his face. Whatever was going to happen, Sam thought, Dean better find him soon.

‘Nothing to say? How about I do the talking then.’ It wasn’t a question, but Sam still gasped when the punch came down, hitting his jawline hard. His lip split, but he didn’t have an opportunity to complain, because a hand in his hair yanked his head back up. Gordan didn’t look angry, just calm.

‘An upcoming war, fuelled by the Special Children. You’re one of them. A demon.’ Sam opened his mouth to explain that Gordon had got it WRONG, that if he just listened Sam would tell him everything, but he was punched again before he could. Gordon stepped back, leaning against a table that had a box on it, and Sam figured it probably wasn’t full of photo albums.

‘So, it started with Scott, but now I’m coming to you. Show me what you can do, Sam. Show me and the rest of the Hunting community, and then I’ll rid the world of one more monster.’ Sam rose his head, blood dribbling down his lips, and sneered.

‘You’ve got this wrong, Gordon, I can’t do anything.’ The Hunter regarded him, before he reached into the box and pulled out a hammer. Sam watched, eyes widening, and Gordon smiled.

‘Well, let’s see if I can’t jog your memory.’

**

Dean was worried. Not only was someone shooting at his baby brother, but now Sam hadn't come back to the Motel. Sure, sometimes Sam stayed out, but that was rare. Dean looked at the clock, reading 11am in the morning, and wondered where his brother could be. Dean hadn't come back to the motel, having found a really cute woman to occupy his time with, but that wasn’t Sam. And Sam hadn't come back to the motel, his bed was unslept in, and he wasn’t answering his phone.

Just about to go into full big-brother mode, Dean relaxed when his phone rang. Reaching across, he didn’t bother to check the ID, just raised the phone to his ear.

‘Hey Sammy.’

‘Not quite, Winchester.’ Dean froze, looked down to see Sam’s called ID, yet he knew that voice all too well.

‘Gordon, what have you done to my brother.’ He snarled, and the man on the other end laughed. Dean knew he should have killed him, should have put a bullet through his skull, and now Gordon had his baby brother.

‘I just thought me and Sammy should have a conversation about his abilities, Dean. Turns out, he’s quite the talker, if… pushed the right way.’ Dean felt ice-cold fear trickle into his stomach, he couldn’t hear Sam in the background either. If Gordon knew about the plan of the yellow-eyed Demon, then he didn’t doubt that Sam was in trouble. He also figured that Walker had been the one to kill Scott.

‘If you touch him…’ Dean snarled, reaching for his gun, before he realised he had no idea where to go.

‘Cute. How about you use that computer of yours and track us down, and in the meantime, I’ll see if I can’t convince Sammy to perform his party tricks.’ Dean didn’t know how to track calls, that was all Sam, and he froze at the thought of his brother’s fate relying on his ability. For once, Dean cursed himself for not listening to his nerdy baby brother.

‘Of course, if you even know how to use it for anything other than porn.’ Gordon said with a laugh, hanging up and Dean throwing the phone across the room, before he thought to people he could call. Bobby, Ellen, Ash… he needed help.

**

Gordon looked down in satisfaction to the bleeding boy, quite surprised that he had lasted this long. He didn’t know a lot, just knew that Sam had the ability to see into the future. He had tried different ways to stimulate that, used dislocating his fingers, cutting and slicing into flesh, burning a brand down onto his hip. He’d even tried electrocution, but the young Hunter just kept pleading, begging, telling him he couldn’t do anything.

Sam was now struggling in and out of consciousness, face swollen and stained with tears and blood. His head drooped, but his eyes flicked open, looking up to him in a mixture of hope and despair. Gordon finished wiping his hands of the blood, took his phone from his pocket, and rang Dean yet again.

‘Walker. Where the Hell are you?’ Gordon was just as surprised with the older Winchester, he genuinely thought that Dean would be quicker to save his baby brother. He walked across to the younger Winchester, gripping Sam’s hair tightly and pulling his head back so hard he gasped in pain.

‘Sammy? Sammy can you hear me?’ Sam’s eyes widened, looked to Gordon and then to the phone.

‘Dean? Dean it’s a trap, don’t…’ The Hunter couldn’t have that, slapped Sam hard enough that he fell silent, and Dean started shouting profanities yet again. Gordon sighed, raised the phone, looking down the Winchester.

‘I may have to try a little harder, he’s certainly making it difficult.’ Gordon remarked, tracing one of the trails of blood down the Winchester’s cheek. Sam didn’t speak, didn’t try to warn his brother anymore, so Gordon was left to listen to the older one shouting.

‘I’ll send you some motivation.’ He finished, hanging up and snapping a picture of the younger Winchester, sending it on to his big brother. Turning back to the box, he looked to some of the unused items. Perhaps, he thought, that would be the way to break through him.

**

Sam gasped, before his head was forced back under the water, and he tried to fight. His lungs burnt, eyes stung as he was stuck in the icy water. It hurt him so much, but he couldn’t fight, his body was drugged up because he was out of the chains. When he finally came back up, gasping more air in, looking to the pink-tinged water, he thanked heavens when he was taken back to the chair.

Chained down, before Gordon walked to the box, coming back with some weird leather contraption. Sam didn’t flinch, watched as Gordon wrapped it around his face. It was tight, itched his wet hair and the bruises on his face. Something was stuck in his mouth, a weird contraption that held his mouth open. To be honest, Sam could have figured it out earlier had he been thinking. Instead, he was too busy trying to ignore the pain of broken fingers, fractured ribs, bruises all over him.

The electrocution was the worst. He had attached it over his right nipple, and he was pretty sure it was now burnt. His body hurt, ached in places he had never been sore before, and now his jaw was beginning to ache from the strain of the… gag. It was a gag. He couldn’t shut his mouth, Sam realised in horror, looking to the Hunter that was undoing his belt. No, no way in Hell. Sam attempted to shout, attempted to cry out, watched the man take out his already hardening cock.

How the hell was this turning him on? Did the guy get off on torturing people? Sam whined, attempted to shuffle back into the uncomfortable chair as Gordon came. Sam found himself being dragged out of the chair, his already bruised leg kicked out from under him, and forced to his knees.

‘Normally, this wouldn’t be my kind of thing, but I’m down for trying new things.’ Gordon explained, voice annoyingly calm as he pushed his cock into Sam’s open mouth, the Winchester sobbing as he did so. It hit the resistance at the back of his mouth, but that didn’t seem to stop him, and Gordon started to thrust. It hurt, drool mixing with the tears spilling down his cheeks, and Sam gagged when he pushed in and settled, his nose pressed to the coarse hair.

Gordon’s phone rang, and the man lifted it to his ear, answering in a steady voice before resuming his thrusts.

‘No, Dean, that’s beside the… ah… point.’

**

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Dean snapped, worried that his baby brother was being hurt. He had called Bobby, who was bringing Rufus to the Roadhouse. Ash was searching for Sam, and Ellen and Jo had agreed to go on the Hunt for Gordon with Dean. The oldest Winchester was no more than thirty minutes from the Roadhouse, unknowing that by doing so, he was also driving closer to Gordon.

‘Enough of me… when are you getting here?’ For once, that annoyingly calm demeanour slipped slightly, and Dean hoped he was getting fed up of hurting Sam. Maybe he would just get to the point, tell him where Sam was.

‘When I find you, I’m going to kill you.’ Dean assured, and Gordon gasped, like he was surprised.

‘Careful Sammy, in through your nose.’ Dean blinked, before his phone beeped, and Dean realised he had a message from Gordon. When he’d got the first picture, one of his baby brother broken and tied to a chair, he had almost screamed. Now, he took a moment to understand. And when he did, he swerved almost into the oncoming traffic, then narrowly avoided the other side of the road, bile rising in his throat.

His baby brother, mouth pried open by some weird metal contraption, swollen blood lips wrapped around… Oh God, he was actually going to be sick. He narrowly missed Baby, staggering out of the car and throwing up over the side of the road. He vaguely heard Gordon praising his baby brother before the phone disconnected, and Dean was left kneeling in the dirt smelling of bile.

**

Gordon laughed as the boy moaned in pain, pushing a second finger in. Unlike what most would do, he had no interest in making this painful. No, the way to hurt Sam Winchester was through humiliation, which was exactly what was happening now. Two lubed fingers pushed into the bent over Winchester, who was pliant under his fingers, literally. Gordon had needed a little help to endure an entire evening, considering he had already used the boy’s mouth twice. Sam had almost broken, he could tell, and so he had taken great fun in installing this new horror.

‘Bet you’re imagining him, huh? Dean bending you over all pretty, fingers working you open after a harsh hunt?’ Sam whined low, tears dripping onto the floor beneath him, but the truth of his words was shown by the rock-hard erection the younger was sporting. Gordon knew Sam was sick, knew he was part-Demon, but he never would have imagined how far the perversion went. He rubbed the fingers against the boy’s prostate, Sam tensing and trying to shout around the gag.

‘This was you imagine, when you get off? Big brother fingering you open, making you his bitch?’ He pushed a third finger in, moving faster now, abusing the soft nub that made Sam shake and sob. Gordon looked to the broken mirror in the corner of the barn, looked at the tears and snot and blood and drool dripping from the Winchester’s face, looked to the broken Hazel eyes and knew he was close to giving him what he wanted.

‘Going to cum for your big brother? Scream his name?’ He reached to the boy’s long hair, gave a one sharp tug as he pushed his fingers in hard, laughing in delight when Sam climaxed. His body went taut, muscles tense as his cock leaked onto the table and floor, further tears coming from the sobbing Hunter.

‘Knew you were a freak, Sam, but wow. Does big brother know you’ve got the hots for him?’ That obviously struck a nerve, because Sam didn’t react when Gordon pushed in, surprised by how tight he was.

‘Obviously not, if the tightness of your arse is anything to go by.’ He groaned, revelling in the warmth, hands wrapping around Sam’s hips.

**

Dean stormed in, eyes basically burning, and was glad the Roadhouse was shut. Bobby and Rufus sat there, near Ash, who was on his computer. Everyone looked as he stormed in, door swinging shut, and Ellen raised an eyebrow.

‘I prefer my doors on their hinges.’ She stated, but Dean didn’t even bother.

‘Where is he.’ He snapped, walking straight to Ash. Ash looked back to the laptop, then up to Dean, who knew that he didn’t have a direct answer by the look on his face.

‘I’ve got it scanning, only another ten minutes.’ He assured, but that did nothing to calm Dean, who kicked a bar stool and stormed back towards the door. Bobby and Rufus didn’t try and speak, but he should have known Ellen would.

‘Boy, come and sit your ass down on this chair.’ Dean did turn, but he didn’t accept the chair, couldn’t. All he could see was the image Gordon had sent him, could see his baby brother being… raped. That’s what it was. But Dean had never thought he would ever have to deal with that, not with Sam, and he had no idea what condition Sam would be in when they found him. If they found him.

‘Sit.’ She snapped, and even Jo looked like she wanted to take a seat. Dean looked right at her, then to the chair she was pointing to, then back. Normally, she terrified him. Him and Sam were quick to listen to her, quick to obey anything she said. But Dean wasn’t listening, couldn’t think straight without his brother. Sam was everything to him, and now Gordon had him.

‘No.’ He stated, feeling the need for someone to punch, or someone to punch him, just to forget the image of Sam. Just to forget how he failed to look after his little brother. Failed to help him, left him to deal with something he couldn’t deal with. It wasn’t his fault that the Demon had chosen him, wasn’t his fault that he got those stupid visions which left him sick for days. Ellen looked genuinely surprised at his statement, but he knew she wouldn’t snap.

‘Sam will be fine…’ She started, tone understanding, like Sam wasn’t stuck in the lunatic’s hands, stuck far away where Dean couldn’t keep him safe. The anger, the rage that Dean was trying to keep locked away bubbled up, and although he never wanted to shout at Ellen, he found his voice raising.

‘Sam isn’t fine, Sam won’t be fine, because that SICK bastard is RAPING my baby brother’s mouth, so excuse me for not wanting your GODDAMNED SEAT!’ He screamed, blood pumping as he sunk down, Ellen moving forward quietly. Dean didn’t even know he was sobbing until her arms wrapped around him, and he clutched her like she could take everything away, like he didn’t have to see the images playing behind his shut eyes.

**

Gordon finished for his third time in Sam, pulling back from the dripping hole that he had been using for the past three hours. The image was actually quite a pretty one, and he was almost tempted to send Dean a photo. Sam moaned as he pulled out, and Gordon was proud that he had managed to get the Winchester to climax three times, just from the talk of his big brother. It was incredible how co-dependant they were, incredible how easily he made the Winchester break.

When he shoved the jeans back up around Sam’s waist, sitting him down in the chair, Gordon had to scold himself when he thought about going again with the boy’s mouth. This wasn’t for pleasure, this was for information. To prove to the Hunting community that Sam Winchester was a monster.

‘Ready to show me your powers, Sam?’ He inquired, tracing the cum-stained lips, looking into the Hazel eyes that showed so much pain. The Winchester’s eyes filled with tears, and he tried to speak, but the Gag prevented it.

‘Don’t speak, just do. Use them, Sam.’ But the Winchester just cried, fat ugly tears rolling down his face, and Gordon momentarily wondered if he was telling the truth. The amount of humiliation, the pain, surely Sam couldn’t genuinely have powers and not be using them? As it turned out, he didn’t have time to think too much, because he heard the Hunters approaching. He grinned, looked across to Sam who was still chained, apart from one unchained hand. He had needed to, to break the bones, but it just meant that he wasn’t fully secured. No worries, he thought, the boy was too broken to try anything.

Dean was the first to walk in, eyes immediately flitting to his brother, who didn’t bother looking up. Gordon smiled slightly, the guilt was written all across the young Hunter’s face. He was surprised to see Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle walk in, shotguns raised, followed by Rufus and Jo. He knew each of them, watched them point the shotguns at him, and Gordon held the button with his thumb hovering right over it.

‘If you step closer, this entire barn goes up in flames. Guns down, slide em’ over, and we can talk.’ Gordon explained. He watched the Hunters look to the button, which Gordon genuinely would press, and they seemed to realise it.

**

Sam watched quietly, watched his friends and family lose their guns. Watched Gordon pick up Dean’s Colt, pointing it as his brother. Sam felt something stir, felt a headache growing, and couldn’t stop the gasp.

‘Sammy!’ Dean called, but Gordon threatened to shoot, and Sam tried to cry out as his body went tense.

_‘Don’t you see, Sam Winchester is a monster! I’m doing the world a favour, ending his sorry ass. I know you, Dean, I know you’ll come after me. I don’t want to kill you.’ Gordon stated, looking apologetic as he put his finger to the trigger of the gun._

_‘You better shoot me dead, Gordon, or I’ll kill you. I swear on it.’ Dean snarled, and the Hunters behind him protested, but Gordon just sighed. He looked to Sam, back to his normal, calm complexion._

_‘I told you.’ He said, and his finger tightened, and Dean fell._

Sam’s headache stopped, eyes flicked open to find Gordon watching him, a proud smile on his face. Damn, he really wished he could control these visions, but it seemed like they just chose when to appear.

‘It makes sense, his powers are basically useless. All that pain, and you couldn’t summon one simple trick.’ Gordon didn’t know. Didn’t know that he had just had a vision. Sam wasn’t going to tell, neither was Dean, but it didn’t make it any less dangerous.

‘Don’t you see, Sam Winchester is a monster! I’m doing the world a favour, ending his sorry ass.’ Gordon snapped, waving the gun at Dean menacingly. Sam couldn’t move, even with one hand free, he had no chance of reaching the guns in time. ‘I know you, Dean, I know you’ll come after me. I don’t want to kill you.’ Sam struggled, trying to break free, and Dean evidently realised that whatever Sam had seen it wasn’t good.

‘You better shoot me dead, Gordon, or I’ll kill you. I swear on it.’ Dean’s voice was so low, angry, and he heard Bobby go to speak, Ellen telling Dean not be idiotic. Gordon, however, just let out a breath, looking to Sam.

‘I told you.’ He turned back, and was raising the gun, and Sam couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to see his brother shot, couldn’t bear to see it again. He didn’t want him to be hurt, he didn’t want to have to live in a world without the one person who kept him from going insane. So, Sam Winchester rose his broken hand, not sure what he was going to do.

He couldn’t make a sound, not properly, but if he could, it would have been a shout of “NO”. The gun went flying, hit the wall, and Gordon went flying in the other direction. Sam slumped, head hurting, watched Dean grab the Colt that had skidded to him and shoot Gordon. Hah, Sam thought, that was good news.

**

Dean wasn’t leaving his brother. He stayed still, Sam’s head in his lap, stroking the hair that he had washed so delicately last night. Ellen had let them have the double bed, even offered to bring up a camp-bed, before Bobby pointed out that Dean wasn’t going to detach himself from his brother. That was alright, and true, Dean wasn’t leaving. He had carried his Sasquatch-sized brother, drove him back to the safety of the Roadhouse, and cleaned him up.

Washed his hair, cleaned his face of the blood and drool and the stuff he really didn’t want to think about. Ignored the fact that his boxers showed it hadn't just been his mouth, because Dean couldn’t think about that without wanting to kill everything in sight. Now, his baby brother was in bed, wearing a shirt and fresh boxers. Dean had wrapped the burn on his hip, stitched some of the cuts that required it, and applied burn cream to his right nipple. He didn’t need to ask to know it was electrocution.

A hand, the one that was resting on his thigh, tensed. Dean felt the tell-tale signs of his brother beginning to wake, watched as Sam’s eyes fluttered open. When he finally came around, he scooted back so quickly that Dean didn’t have time to catch him before he hit the floor, racing back until he was pressed to the wall. Eyes wide, fear evident, and Dean got off the bed and crouched down.

‘Sammy, it’s okay, he’s dead. It’s just you and me, baby brother.’ Dean knew that expression, saw guilt spread across his brother’s face faster than anything else. Guilt? Why would his brother feel guilty.

‘Okay. Where are we?’ He croaked, voice sounding hoarse, refusing to look at him. Dean felt a pang deep in his gut, telling him he should push this, but he didn’t.

‘The Roadhouse. Sam are you…’

‘We should get going.’ Sam stated, standing up. Dean didn’t miss the wince, or the way Sam still couldn’t look at him. He didn’t ask, didn’t even try and understand why his brother was acting so weird, just nodded.

‘If that’s what you want…’

**

Sam couldn’t look at Dean. Not as they left the Roadhouse, not as they thanked everyone, not during the next simple Hunt. Sam couldn’t do it, couldn’t look at Dean without remembering how he had climaxed crying out his brother’s name, climaxed during RAPE, because that was what Sam had to keep convincing himself it was. Dean was out, picking up more women, which left Sam alone in the motel, drinking his heart out.

When Dean’s half-empty bottle of whiskey became fully-empty, Sam realised that he probably shouldn’t have done that. The last thing he needed was to piss Dean off, Sam was just so ANNOYING, he was a burden on his brother, a burden on everyone. He was the reason Mom was dead, that Dad was dead, that Dean didn’t have the life he deserved. He killed Jess, and he got Scott killed, and he turned Gordon insane.

Ellen had tried to talk to him. To tell him that if he needed to talk about what happened, if he wanted someone who wouldn’t judge him, he could talk to her. Sam wondered what she would say when he admitted to what had happened. She’d hate him, more than they all did because of what he had done. Thrown Gordon back using his powers, powers he had no control over and only seemed to work when Dean was about to die.

The door to the motel swung open, Dean coming in looking like sin. His FBI shirt rolled up to elbows, tie undone along with the top couple of buttons. Sam felt guilt creep in, looked away from that delicious sight and tried to focus on anything else but that.

‘Jesus, Sammy. How much did you drink?’ Dean looked at Sam, who snorted with laughter, kicking back onto the bed.

‘So bossy.’ He stated, and Dean sighed. Sam, despite the internal self-loathing, was still a happy drunk. He smiled at his big brother, who was watching him curiously, and found himself speaking again.

‘M’sorry I’m a bad brother.’ He admitted, finding Dean’s eyes widen in shock.

‘Sammy…’

‘I know, Gordon w-was right. Mm not worth it.’ Dean gripped the empty bottle hard, so hard that Sam was surprised it didn’t shatter.

‘Don’t you say that.’ He snapped, aggression lacing his tone.

‘M’ a freak, Dean, I…’ He realised he was crying, tears streaming down even as he tried to smile, even as he tried his hardest to be happy, ‘deserved it.’

Dean moved so fast that Sam actually jumped, watched his brother stand up and shake his head, looking down at Sam in anger.

‘You listen to me, Sam, you did not deserve that. How can you even think…’ Sam shot up, facing his brother, well, looking down slightly, eyes teary and head spinning.

‘Because he made me LIKE it, Dean! I came! Twice! Because he wouldn’t shut up, kept talking about you and how you’d treat me!’ Dean froze, and Sam sobbed, letting his knees buckle underneath him and collapsed down. It only took a second for his brother to be by his side, arms wrapping around him and holding him, Sam burying his head into Dean’s collar as he cried.

‘S’alright, Sammy, I’m not mad. Not mad, baby boy, never mad at you.’ Dean’s lips pressed to Sam’s forehead, and if Sam thought about it, he would have heard the nickname that Dean only ever used when they were little, when Sam was curled up against Dean in bed.

**

Dean didn’t know what to think. Years repressing feelings he wasn’t allowed, now only to find out that some Hunter had used them against Sam. The heartfelt omission had made Dean’s heart swell, which probably explained why they were both curled up under the sheets of Sam’s Queen-sized bed. His little brother was an octopus, especially when drunk, and had curled up tightly to Dean. Head resting in the crook of his neck, arms looped around his waist, legs tangled between his. They were closer than could be considered “brotherly”, but when had they ever been normal?

Sam needed him. Dean needed Sam. They were all each other had left, and if this life was the one they were stuck in, so what if they didn’t exactly follow normal rules? Dean looked to his baby brother, who looked happy, a slight smile on his face even when he was asleep, and Dean decided he would do anything to keep it there.

His phone rang, and Dean leant across, surprised Sam didn’t wake. It was Bobby, which was unsurprising, so he answered it.

‘S’early, Bobby.’ Dean stated, stroking his brother’s hair as he listened to his Uncle.

‘It’s 7am, Idgit. How’s Sam?’ Sam hadn't spoken to any of them, not properly, apart from thanking them for coming for him. Dean had felt his heart break, watching his brother thank people for something that should be natural between family.

‘Sleeping, but he’s getting there.’ Bobby huffed slightly, a pleased sound, and Dean couldn’t keep the grin off his own face.

‘Come and visit me, you boys need a break.’ Dean thought to what Sam had admitted about his feelings, thought to the fact that he wanted to wake up every morning curled against his little brother, realising he couldn’t really do that if…

‘And before you overthink, I already know you boys are sharing a bed. Possibly more. It ain’t bothering me, ya idgit. I figured that out years ago.’ Dean fell silent, unsure of what to say, before he opted for a cautious,

‘We’ll see you soon, Bobby.’ Only after he hung up did he realise that he had neither agreed, nor disagreed with what Bobby had just said. Dean groaned, trying to keep the noise down so his baby brother could sleep, and thought about what he had said. Was it really that obvious?


	2. Bitch, Jerk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels.

Sam woke up, head pressed against his brother’s chest. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that, he could tell just by how safe he felt. A steady heartbeat played over in his mind, and Sam risked moving to look up at his brother. Dean always looked so peaceful when he slept, face unmarred by stress and body relaxed. His eyes scanned across his brother, from the tousled up hair to the hem of his shirt, that was stained with, presumably, Sam’s tears. Awkward, he thought, looking up yet again at Dean.

He could get lost, jut watching him. It felt like home, what they had, and Sam knew that he should be running in the opposite direction. Trying to shift, his head suddenly started pounding, and he remembered why he was in this situation. Sure enough, a quick glance to the empty bottle on the other side of the room confirmed that Sam had drunk himself stupid. Why he was in bed next to his brother, however, remained a mystery. Usually, the only time this happened was when Sam had really bad nightmares, and even that hadn't been since they were children.

Surely he could allow himself this? It would be the closest Sam would ever get to having his brother, and after what happened with Gordon, Sam deserved someone to hold him, right? The moment that thought came up, guilt joined it, and Sam untangled himself from his brother just in time to race to the bathroom. His stomach tipped, body retching horribly. It was probably down to the alcohol, he told himself, ignoring how good it had felt to be next to Dean.

The words that Gordon had said floated around in his head, loud enough that Sam didn’t realise his brother was awake until a hand lay on his shoulder. Instinct had him flinching, before he relaxed into his Dean’s touch and sat back onto his heels.

‘Rinse.’ His brother stated, handing him a cup of water, and Sam happily obliged. Flushing the toilet and standing on unsteady feet, he ignored the concerned glance of Dean as he brushed his teeth, getting rid of the horrible taste left behind.

‘That’s why you don’t drink all the whiskey, Sammy.’ His brother remarked, chuckling as he walked back to Sam’s motel bed. When Sam turned to look at him, he realised that his brother was indeed waiting for him to come and sit down, which made everything slightly worse. Suddenly worried that he had said something last night, the Hunter approached cautiously, making sure to put an appropriate distance between them.

‘I think we should talk about what you said last night.’ Dean began, green eyes basically boring into him as Sam tried to remain neutral. He couldn’t remember what he had said, but it couldn’t be good, not with the way Dean was looking at him. Was it about Gordon? Or worse, about Dean? Sam fidgeted nervously, before finally accepting he would have to speak.

‘What did I say?’ He asked quietly, waiting for the bad news. No wonder this morning was so weird, Sam had probably gone crazy last night and now his brother felt obliged to try and help him, like he was some sort of sick puppy. Well, sick yes, but not the puppy part.

**

In hindsight, Dean probably should not have started with “You said Gordon made you finish”, because now his baby brother had his back to the wall, curled up tighter than Dean thought possible, rocking backwards and forwards like he was trying to save himself from whatever was going on in that giant brain of his.

‘No, oh God no…’ Dean moved forwards quietly, taking his little brother’s hands before he could shred his own arms apart, lacing their fingers together. Sam’s glazed over eyes flicked to his, fear evident, and Dean bit his tongue for being so stupid. Sam was basically swimming in guilt, this wasn’t the time to start being blunt like that.

‘Sammy, I’m not mad at you. Look at me, baby brother.’ Normally, Sam would have pouted like a girl when he said that, but this time he obeyed. Dean took their joined hands, placed them over his heart so that Sam could feel the steady, rhythmic beating, although it was slightly faster than usual.

‘Deep breaths, that’s it.’ He assured, Sam doing as told and breathing deeper, although Dean could see how close he was to slipping back. Dean didn’t really think about his next action, just acted out of years of wanting. It was the briefest of kisses, Dean brushing his lips lightly over Sam’s, and the boy stopped moving altogether.

‘I love you, Sammy.’ He stated, regretting all the times he had kept those words back for fear of freaking his brother out. Tears quickly welled up in Sam’s eyes, and Dean worried he’d overstepped a mark, but his little brother reached forwards and kissed him again, just enough to confirm that the feelings were reciprocated. Knowing he was blushing, Dean focused instead on chipping away at the loathing Sam felt for himself.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Sam.’ He stated adamantly, anger bubbling just thinking about what Gordon had done to his brother. He wished he could go back and make him suffer, rather than allowing him to get away so easily.

‘But I…’

‘Natural. It’s just a bodily reaction, and I know you didn’t want it. It’s nobody’s fault but Gordon’s, Sammy. It was rape.’ Sam flinched slightly at the word, confirming everything Dean feared about his brother blaming himself.

‘You were a victim, Sam, it wasn’t your fault.’ Dean knew when he had driven the point home, because Sam started sobbing, shoulders shaking as his body crumbled. Dean was there to wrap around him, Sam’s hands clutching at the front of Dean’s shirt as he cried, and Dean fought tears off himself.

‘It hurt so much…’ Sam muttered, and Dean rubbed circles on the small of his back, trying to avoid places where he knew the bruising was too much.

‘Called m’ a freak, De. M’ a freak.’ The childhood nickname caught him by surprise, but Dean hid it well, tipping Sam’s face and shuffling closer till there was basically no space between them, close enough that Dean could see his own glassy eyes reflected in Sam’s hazel.

‘Why are you a freak, Sam?’ Dean needed to know the answer, needed to know if it was because of the abilities or because of… them.

‘Always wanted you… knew it was wrong…’ That caused another sob, one that he so clearly tried to choke down. Dean’s heart cracked a little, seeing the brother that tried to hold everything inside break so slowly.

‘Sam, when has anything in our life been normal? If you’re a freak, I am as well, because I want you just as much.’ He pressed his lips lightly to his brother’s, still shocked he could actually do that, then murmured quietly, ‘If not more.’

This time, when Sam returned the kiss, he didn’t break it. Sitting on the floor, the two curled close, Dean hesitantly reaching to wrap fingers in Sam’s hair, feeling his little brother reach up and trace his jawline. When they pulled back, Dean took a moment to admire his little brother, pupils wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.

‘You and me against the world, baby boy.’ Dean stated, wiping away the last tear that was tracking down Sam’s face. A smile crossed his brother’s lips, one that mended the crack in his heart and had him smiling. It was then that Dean thought back to what Bobby had said, and he grinned at the younger.

‘And Bobby, who wants to see us.’ He gave him a wink, one that had Sam’s eyes widening in horror.

‘You told him?!’ Sam exclaimed, and Dean burst out laughing.

‘He knew. Guess you gave the secret away, Bitch.’ For the smallest second, Sam looked hurt at the nickname, and Dean figured it was to do with Gordon. But his brother just smiled, standing up and nudging him with one of those giant feet.

‘More like your fault, Jerk.’ Sam snapped back, and Dean jumped up to join his brother. So things weren’t great, but they weren’t awful either.


End file.
